


She Saw the Light

by Sauri



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon until S7E2, Daenerys Targaryen-centric, Dany is a conqueror, Dany wakes TF up, Dany won't trust her legacy on a man who failed her, Fix-It, Internal Dialogue, Tyrion's plan was dumb, diverges after Olennas pep talk, no ships, she should know better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:37:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24550171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sauri/pseuds/Sauri
Summary: Canon until Olenna's "Be a dragon"Dany sits by the painted table after her war council and ponders over their plan. Should she trust her Hand over her own instincts?Of course not.
Comments: 24
Kudos: 87





	1. Chapter 1

"Are you a sheep?"

Lady Olenna's eyes narrowed as she tilted her head in provocation. Daenerys kept still, unwilling to give anything to the old lady, who returned her a faint smile, unbothered by the lack of reaction. "No. You're a dragon." And the smile was gone.

"Be a dragon."

x

Daenerys sat alone by the painted table, one hand resting over it, nail idling tapping over the wooden surface. Her eyes at half mast traveled over the continent her ancestors had claimed as their own, musing over their hardships and victories.

She resented them.

It was foolish, and unfair, but she did all the same. Had they not united Westeros, she doubted her family would have fallen quite so horribly. Doubted she would have ended up being the last of them, with no hope to birth another human child and continue their line.

It would all end with her.

Yet, what choice did she have but to spend every effort to restore their legacy? She couldn't let her father be the last Targaryen to sit on that throne, couldn't leave their family name sullied for eternity. Since she was the last, it was her duty to make it right before the eyes of Westeros. 

It was just as well, though. Since she was the last, she would uproot all the filth and take it to the grave with her. By the time she was done with this life, Westeros would welcome a new age without kings and queens to oppress them with their whims.

But it couldn't be done without violence. Although she loathed it, she wasn't naive to believe change could be achieved peacefully. Lhazar had seen to that. Blood would be spilled either by her hand or by the hand of her enemies. Meereen had proven it. 

Her mercy couldn't be used against her.

She thought back to the siege in Dragon Bay, the result of her Hand's actions. The rage she felt when hearing about his plans of keeping slavery lawfully for another five years. 

Clever plans by clever men.

Daenerys looked at the wooden lion piece fallen at Casterly Rock. It would demoralize Cersei, her Hand had said, to have her ancestor's castle taken away from her, and she could see the sense in it. It was smart enough to have her allies stop squabbling and swear their services. It had also been the beginning of the previous King in the North's end, or so she had been told. She had trusted his judgement on account of them standing on westerosi soil, where her Hand was supposed to excel, yet something kept nagging at her, the fallen lion mocking her cluelessness.

Her eyes narrowed.

Daenerys hadn't known Slaver's Bay when she conquered it, but she had trusted her instincts. And her commanders. 

Lord Tyrion was no commander. And he was fighting against his sister.

As awful as Viserys had been to her, she would never have it in her to kill her brother. She believed his fate had been tragically sealed the moment they left the house with the red door, but it didn't stop her from mourning what could have been. She wouldn't trust herself to be objective when fighting against her brother, and maybe she shouldn't blindly trust her Hand either. 

Tyrion clearly resented Lady Ellaria for the death of his niece, and while she couldn't blame him for that, she also couldn't be sure he had set his feelings aside when planning their placement in her war. Her heart sank in her chest, and her eyes darted to the sun and spear near King's Landing.

Yara also wanted to get rid of her murderous uncle, yet he hadn't even been discussed in their war council. Who could guarantee her his fleet wouldn't ruin their plans? Or that he wouldn't ally with Cersei now that she wasn't an option to him?

A ball of fire formed in her belly as her hands clenched in tight fists above the painted wood. She tried to keep her breathing even, but it grew labored all the same. This was her war. Her allies. Her people. She couldn't afford to lose. If she lost due to a man's clever plans it would be the most humiliating end to her family's legacy. 

No. She would never allow it. If she was doomed to fail, it would be by her own doing. By her own mistakes. It would be because for once in her life, her instincts had failed her. She owed it to all who followed her.

Daenerys rose from her seat, keeping both hands sprayed on the table. Eyes closed, a deep breath filled her lungs, expanding them to the maximum, before being slowly exhaled through her mouth. Opening them again halfway, they surveyed the whole map once more, her rage transformed into determination as her children cried in fury not far from her. She smiled despite herself and straightened up, walking towards the balcony in a sedate pace. The dragons were close, brimming with energy and begging for her to fly with them.

No one would leave the island today, and she would make sure they wouldn't leave tomorrow either. A break now would clear her mind, and she could survey the area around her.

At least this was a plan she could support with all her being.

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOC Alert!   
> Here's the thing: I don't believe Varys gives two shits about anyone but himself, but since I'm going with "canon" until S7, he DOES work for the people.   
> Honestly, I'd really love with he had been a wicked evil man willing to do anything for the Greater Good of the People, which is what I'm going for here, but... Man, they really fucked up every leader who cared about people, didn't they?  
> I'm giving a boost to Team Dany and putting Varys firmly by her side.   
> Also, all characters sound kind of dumb because that's what you get when you try to apply logic to nonsensical characterization.

Daenerys could admit she was impulsive.

Sometimes.

When it came to protecting her people, however, she didn't nearly mind it as much as she perhaps should. They were worth the risk, and she would do whatever it took to keep them safe.

Her advisors didn't quite agree with that.  _ Needless risks _ , they said.

_ Well _ , she thought bitterly, the pang in her head mixed with the loss of blood making her beyond cranky,  _ if they didn't want me taking risks, they should have done their fucking jobs. _

Her flight with her children had been a great idea, as it turned out. It had eased her worries, relaxed the tension accumulated in her muscles and cleared her mind enough to make her certain her Hand's plan was foolish at best and offensive at worst.

To not use her armies against King's Landing because their origin would scare the townspeople… had some logic, she could admit, but what did Tyrion have planned for her people? They weren't leaving, unless they chose to, and she couldn't afford to have them always be seen as the  _ other _ if she was to rule Westeros. They needed to integrate if they were going to stay with her, and her Hand's idea of keeping them away from the westerosi or as a mere army of savages to scare her enemies wasn't something she could tolerate.

The idea of sieging King's Landing, for that matter, also didn't sit well with her. She had been told over and over about Cersei's tyranny and cruelty, and she failed to see how a million starved people could turn on their Queen despite having done nothing after she blew what was supposed to be the biggest symbol of their faith. After so many years of oppression, it seemed to her like the people of King's Landing were too tired and too afraid to fight back. How could she sit by their walls and starve them? How could that be called liberation? Starvation was the cruelest of tortures. It kills you slowly, draining all your hope drip by drip as you waste away, too powerless to do anything about it. How could those people ever see her as different from what came before when she resorted to their same tactics?

And if she got the dornish army, or the Reach's army to flood the city when the gates fell, what sort of bloodbath would it become? Armies filled with rage and hatred, thirsty for blood and revenge at all costs. 

Maybe it wouldn't make her the Queen of Ashes, but the Queen of Death instead.

She didn't want either.

Daenerys hadn't had time to dwell more over her Hand's incompetence, whose position by her side she had been seriously rethinking by then, because she saw  _ them _ . Closing in by King's Landing bay, an armada of close to a thousand ships, led by a monstrously big warship she could only assume was the Silence.

Yara had told her about her uncle. A mad and cruel man, now seeking a mad and cruel queen for himself.

It seemed to her like the kind of information she should have heard from the Spider, but perhaps the man had been too busy making sure his queen wouldn't stray from what he deemed acceptable behavior.

None of it had mattered then. If Euron Greyjoy was successful in his alliance with the Lion Queen, they could ferry armies from the east and foil any plans that relied on sea travel from them. Countless more people would die.

She couldn't allow it.

So she didn't.

It wasn't hard to get rid of a fleet when you had three grown dragons eager for action.

Her only misstep had been getting too close to the Silence. She needed to make sure Euron would die, as she couldn't afford having an invisible enemy, much less one as dangerous as him. And he was there, waiting for her with a crazed look on his face, bow and arrow ready to release.

She thought of Meraxes.

The fear of losing Drogon had consumed her enough to try to pull away from the ship. She hadn't expected for Drogon to grow enraged because of that, to keep diving and blasting the ship with flames so hot she had thought it would blister her skin. She also hadn't expected Euron to be so fearless when facing a dragon head on, enough to firmly keep his stance and aim for her life. 

It missed, obviously. But barely.

The arrow cut through the side of her head, almost taking a chunk of her ear with it. Had Drogon not dipped his shoulder in time it would have pierced through her left eye, and she would be the one with the same ending as Meraxes.

It was still scary, and painful. Rhaegal and Viserion behaved as if they felt her pain, becoming ferocious and untamable, burning whatever was near them in blind rage. Thankfully, Drogon still listened to her, and made a show of biting his brothers to bring them down from their vicious high. His constrained behavior while flying her back to Dragonstone seemed a lot like guilt to her, and although she couldn't be sure, she still whispered a few mollifying words to him while inching closer to the warm scales underneath her. They trembled with his rumbling, the flap of his wings sounding distant but strong. Stronger than she had ever heard. Her other two boys cryed gently by their sides, and it took her some time to realize they were scared because of the smell of her blood.

She had felt rather clammy, but had assumed it was because of the steam risen from the sea. The black leather from her dress didn't help, so she hadn't realized the wound had bled so much. She remembered musing over a change in her wardrobe, although red didn't seem like much of an improvement when it came to bloody wounds, and she insisted on wearing her House colors.

Arriving at the castle involved a lot of screeching and gasping and muttering. Dany honestly couldn't remember that part very well, but she did remember ordering Yara to claim the remaining ships, although how well she had worded that was anyone's guess. 

She also remembered a lot of scolding, questioning and preaching, to which she might or might not have used a few foul words as response. She remembered Missandei always by her side whenever she woke. Sweet, sweet Missandei giving her stupid male advisors a piece of her mind when she had been too tired to even open her eyes. 

If only the world had more Missandeis. How good would it be?

Of course, not even her dear friend was above giving her a stern talking to when she felt better. But she didn't mind, as it came from a place of genuine love and care. She took it all in, apologized for her rashness and explained everything leading to it. All the stupid plans, the doubts, the fears.

Missandei studied her for a long moment before letting out a small, but relieved, sigh.

"Although I'm not happy about you being hurt, I'm relieved you reached this conclusion on your own. I'm... afraid I've failed you." Missandei held out a hand to stop her words of denial, then moved it to hold her hand with a small smile. "Westeros is very different from Essos. I was afraid of speaking about something I didn't know, much like Lord Tyrion did back in Meereen, when he claimed to know what the slaves felt after living as one for a couple of weeks."

The scowl on her face must have said everything she thought about that, as Missandei gave her a look that amounted to a silent  _ I know. _ She sighed again, eyes landing on their joined hands, and she continued.

"But I'm still your advisor. What we don't know, we can learn together. I never should have removed myself from your council because of my origin. While I might still not know the minor details necessary to rule Westeros effectively, I can at least represent your essossi people and defend them from being used as a fear mongering tool."

"But I should have seen it for what it was the moment he spoke of it. All of you are my people and it is my duty to protect you, even from my own advisors." She shook her head, the shame bringing out tears she refused to let fall. "I failed all of you when I let the plan pass without properly thinking of its consequences."

Missandei's hand gripped hers tighter, and her eyes were on her face again, gentle but stern. "I won't coddle you, Daenerys. You need better than that. It's true that you should have thought it through before agreeing, but you did it anyway and put an end to the plan before it was too late." She reached for her other hand, holding them firmly together. "We will do it again, and this time I'll be by your side no matter what comes."

The tears fell despite her will, and Missandei hugged her, smothering her face against her ebony neck, her other hand trailing up and down over her back in a soothing gesture. Daenerys' hands held onto the fabric on her lower back, wrinkling it under pale fingers as her tears slowly soaked the woolen dress on her friend's shoulder. She didn't didn't make a sound, she had no right to. It was her place to know better, do better. To make her own decisions and not lose sight of herself. To be stronger.

To be a dragon.

Daenerys removed herself from Missandei's arms, holding her friend's hands on her own this time. Her pale thumb caressed the smooth ebony skin, getting a soft squeeze in return. She took a deep, shuddering breath, and let it flow out smoothly from between her lips. Her eyes met Missandei's golden ones with steely resolve.

"Fetch me Lord Varys. We'll get to the bottom of this."

Missandei looked at her with some surprise, then concern as her eyes darted to the bandaged wound on her head, but she didn’t argue, getting up from the bed to relay her orders. 

As she nestled herself in her pillows, Daenerys heard the grave but concerned voices of Qhono and Grey Worm by her door, making her smile. Missandei came back with both warriors hot on her heels, together with a dothraki woman she didn’t know. She made a beeline to her bed, fussing over her bandages without as much as greeting her. A healer. She considered telling her she felt just fine, but gave up on it instantly. She felt very far from  _ just fine _ , and by the look on their faces, she also wouldn’t be able to fool anyone. 

_ “You look like shit, khaleesi.” _

She laughed at Qhono’s honesty, and winced, earning herself a rather nasty look from her healer. It must have been the blood loss that made her give the woman an ingratiating smile, but it seemed to work. She huffed, muttering something under her breath while shaking her head, and continued on with her fussing. The bandages were taken off, bloodied, and it hurt, and stung, and made her want to curse with all the words she had learned from sailors when she had been nothing but a street urchin, but she held on, clenching her teeth and fists as the woman worked on her. The refreshing smell of ground herbs being a comforting contrast against the pungency from all the blood.

_ “It’s healing well, khaleesi. There’s no rot or pus. The color is nasty, but that’s just how it is. I did my stitches the best I could, but it will probably scar.” _

She tried to touch her fingers gingerly on her face, but her wrist was held by the healer with a scowl. Instead of persisting, she smiled.  _ “It doesn’t matter, as long as it heals. What’s your name?” _

_ “Jikhara. You lost a lot of blood, so I told them to make horse liver soup. No complaining.” _

How could someone who ate a whole raw heart complain about some liver soup? But she held her tongue. As if on cue, there was a knock on the door and a dothraki girl came in holding the foul smelling soup.

_ “It also has herbs in it. All good for you. Eat.” _

So she did. It was bitter and greasy, with lumps of liver and pieces of what looked like overcooked grass, so thick she suspected it had been cooked in nothing but horse blood, but she swallowed it all down without as much as creasing her eyebrows. Whatever annoyance Jikhara had for her was gone when she handed over the empty bowl, earning herself a pleased smile.

_ “Good. You will recover fast like this. I’ll come again at night. Don’t touch the wrappings.” _

The two dothraki women were gone just like that, and she found herself missing Irri and Jhiqi’s companionship again. Both gone before their time because of her weakness and helplessness. But no more.

Another knock sounded on the door before opening to reveal her Master of Whispers and Hand.  _ Of course.  _ She didn’t look at them as Missandei handed her a glass of water to wash off the foul taste from her mouth. Qhono and Grey Worm stood by her bed, barely concealed dislike coloring their scowls. All they knew was that her orders to attack the Westerlands had been put on hold, and their Queen had burned their enemy’s armada on her own, but the dislike was there all the same. She must have been blinder than she thought.

“You seem better, Your Grace. At least better than the bloodied mess we found under Drogon’s wings. You gave us quite a scare, you know? Please don’t do that again.”

Tyrion’s plea was genuine, and it warmed her heart. It still wouldn’t change her mind, though. This was bigger than their feelings. 

She kept her eyes on the cup in her hands, her voice airy, “Yes, I am better, but I don’t recall requesting your presence just yet, Lord Tyrion.”

The silence that followed felt heavy. She could almost hear the exchange of glances around her.

“Your Gra-”

Her gaze landed on him, and whatever he saw on her eyes made him swallow his words. He was hurt, she could see. And anxious. He nodded in acquiescence, exchanged one last glance with the Spider, and left the room with heavy steps, closing the door softly behind him.

“Who do you serve, Lord Varys?”

The man looked at her with his usual impassive face, but he couldn’t completely conceal the wariness in his eyes. He tilted his head in a show of submission, “you, Your Grace.”

Daenerys held the urge to roll her eyes at his little display. She didn’t want  _ this _ . Didn’t want a performance of subservience. She wanted real people, fearlessly voicing their concerns when advising her. They had been through this already.

Did she seem so unreasonable? She didn’t think so. Her people had no trouble speaking their mind to her. Was it a difference in culture, maybe? But Varys had been born and raised in Essos, in a life not so dissimilar to her own. He was supposed to want the same as her, yet this barrier between them seemed insurmountable. 

She looked at Missandei, who looked towards the windows of her chambers. Daenerys followed her gaze outside, where her children flew freely under the sun, and she understood.

Daenerys Targaryen was too powerful, and had achieved all of it on her own.

She didn’t truly need them, and that made them feel expendable. Unsafe. Her threat of burning him alive couldn’t have helped with that, and although it remained true, maybe she should have left it unsaid. Even so, if that was the truth, it made him dangerous. A scared man would never face her head on, and meaningless words took no effort to be spoken. They would either need to reach an agreement, once and for all, or part ways.

“I thought you served the people.”

His eyes changed from wariness to cautious interest, “Them as well, Your Grace.”

“Then explain to me how exactly you are helping the people by hiding Euron’s fleet from me.”

“I’m afraid I wasn’t aware of his armada, Your Grace. They must have sailed on high seas, away from my little birds.”

“Of course. Because a thousand ships is a rather common occurrence in the Iron Islands. No one would have noticed such a humble number.”

To his credit, the Spider did seem ashamed of the failure from his spy network. He looked at the ground in conflict, and his shoulders slumped slightly, as if in defeat. “I fear… my little birds don’t answer to me alone anymore, Your Grace. There have been a few conflicting reports, and the total number of them has diminished greatly from what once was.”

That explained a lot. But still. “And you didn’t think to tell me about this before I sent all my allies and armies out? You can’t blame me for doubting your loyalties. You must be well aware of the damage it would have done to our forces had Euron been free to take them by surprise.”

He nodded, resigned. “I am, Your Grace, and I understand your doubts. I had… trouble coming to terms with my own inefficiency. I tried to pretend all was well, but I shouldn’t have done it. It nearly cost us all we have. I can only apologize for my mistakes, and hope you’ll give me another chance.”

Daenerys stared at him. He seemed genuine, but she could never know for sure. A person raised in the streets had an innate sense of survival, which Lord Varys obviously shared, and they could become anything in order to live another day. She rested her body against the pillows once more, sighing as she softened her demeanor.

“What do you think of Lord Tyrion’s plans? And be honest.”

He took her in with some curiosity, taking her plea for what it was as he also relaxed his stance. “ _ Honestly, _ Your Grace, I’m not fond of it. Starving the people doesn’t sit well with me, but it’s better than the alternative.”

“Which is?”

He frowned, explaining it as if she was daft. “ _ Burning them _ .”

Missandei tensed by her side, as did Qhono and Grey Worm, but she waved her hand, diffusing their ire. “You see, Lord Varys, you and Tyrion seem entirely too certain the only way of taking the city with my dragons amounts to burning it completely to the ground. Have you considered I can simply burn the gates? As long as I’m not hurt, I _do_ have control over my children.” 

He glanced over her commanders as his posture grew rigid once more, and returned his gaze to her face. She was still relaxed against her cushions, making sure to keep her expression open and candid. Stern and impassive hadn’t worked too much in her favor so far. 

Lord Varys swallowed, then nodded. “Burning the gates does sound like a better plan, Your Grace, but the city will still be sacked when the armies go in. Houses burned, women raped, men and children murdered. I’ve seen it before. You won’t be any different from the men who came before you.”

“True. And now I’m having trouble understanding what exactly you thought would happen in Tyrion’s plan of sieging King’s Landing.”

Lord Varys faltered, as if seeing the plan for what it was the first time, but still answered her, his voice filled with urgency, “the people will riot against Cersei.”

“The people will die of hunger while hating the one who caused it, not the one inside their gates. They fear Cersei. They will never rise against her. They didn’t when she blew up the Sept of Baelor, they won’t when they’re wasting away, too weak to even stand. You know what hunger feels like. Even if they try, Cersei’s soldiers will do the rest of the job of ending their lives. We can’t depend on them to outroot Cersei. We can’t throw away their lives as if they mean nothing. You say you’re loyal to the people, but I just don’t see it. All of your actions go against your words. How am I supposed to keep you in my council? To trust you will speak for them? To be certain you want what is best for them?”

His face grew red as he panicked, and she had never seen him lose his composure like that. She didn’t doubt the guilt and desperation in his glazed eyes was anything but his truest feelings, as it would be far too terrifying for it to be an act. His mouth quivered, opening and closing repeatedly as he tried to come with words, but nothing came out. In the end, he fell on his knees, and whether or not it had been intentional she couldn’t say, but he took a deep steadying breath and lifted his eyes at her, the fervor in then throwing her out of balance.

“You’re right. I failed them. I trusted another man’s intelligence when I should have trusted my own. I should have been against his plan, should have questioned it, given an alternative. But… But Westeros…” He faltered again, shaking his head. “Westeros is rotten, Your Grace. I hadn’t realized how foul his plan was because it is simply the way things are done here. The lords and kings fight for power, and the people suffer for it. I had thought… I had thought this would be last time. The last siege. Our numbers would convince the other lords to kneel. Three dragons would make them comply even if unwilling, and you would rule the Seven Kingdoms for the people. I thought about the end. And I ignored the path leading to it.”

Lord Varys reclaimed some of his usual poise as he spoke, much to her relief, and even kneeling on the ground his features were a mixture of resignation and aloofness. She believed him. It would seem too hypocritical of her to condemn the man when she was guilty of the same sin.

“Please rise, Lord Varys.” She sighed. “We made the same mistake. Thankfully disaster could be avoided, but let it be a lesson for both of us.”

He rose, composure perfectly in place as if it had never been lost, but his eyes felt warmer as they roamed over her face and the injury in her head. “ _ Thank you _ , Your Grace. But please be more careful from now on. Maybe have some armor made for when you fly?”

She gave him a wry smile, “I don’t think I have much choice on that, do I? Do we even have a smith on this island?”

He thought for a moment, and a flash of uncertainty crossed his features too fast for her to be sure of it. “Not on Dragonstone, but there is one in King’s Landing, once an apprentice to a man trained in Qohor, Your Grace.”

“I’m guessing you have a way of smuggling him out of there, or you wouldn’t have mentioned him.”

“I do.”

“...Do you need my approval?”

“He’s Robert Baratheon’s bastard, Your Grace.”

She stared. Was this a test or something?

“You don’t believe I’d blame a child for the sins of their father, do you?”

A faint smile graced his lips, and he nodded, satisfied. “Not at all, Your Grace.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprising absolutely no one, I can't plan to save my life.   
> Next chapter will be Tyrion's reconning (and replanning), but I'm not... shitting on him. He's a product of his upbringing, and means well, but I'm stuck with dumb canon, so he'll come off as very uninteligent, like everyone else.  
> Also, when I reread it before I post it always feels very rushed to me. It doesn't show as I write, and I might be skimming through in the final look, so I can never be sure if it's too fast or not.   
> What do you all think? Though even if it's rushed, as I'm not a fan of too many words, I wouldn't really know how to pace it properly...
> 
> Unrelated to that, I watched another little scene. The one where Dany threatens Varys. And... I kind of get why people hate her so much? Focusing on that scene alone she comes off as... entitled, snobbish, and very bitchy (which is very rich for stansas who hate her when their fave can be even worse). Of course, it doesn't read that way when you apply context, but you kind of have to read a lot between the lines to get any sort of nuance from her. I would never blame Emilia for that, all of it is 100% script and direction, and she did great with what she was given, but jeezus, they completely ruined Dany. 
> 
> Can you imagine giggly Dany by Emilia? I'd die for her.  
> Thankfully I only like her. If I had to deal with heartbreak over every character I'd be doomed. No amount of fanfic in the world could soothe the pain.


End file.
